


Mendacity

by aiya_jakga



Series: Schrodinger's Betrayel [1]
Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 14:29:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19975627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aiya_jakga/pseuds/aiya_jakga
Summary: Mendacity - untruthfulness. A lie.After Curt shoots Owen he finds his journal, and in it he learns something he can never take back.The major character death refers to Owen.





	Mendacity

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first fanfic in about 7 years? Damn you tin can bros for pulling me back in.  
> I haven't written in a very long time, and I don't have a beta, so I hope you'll excuse any mistakes.
> 
> This is based of a headcannon of mine. I might make another version of this were Curt doesn't shoot Owen, but based off the same headcannon. I'm a sucker for a happy ending.

Owen was trembling. It was slight, and Curt thought it unlikely that anyone else would have been able to notice the fine tremor; but Curt knew the way that Owen’s hands shook as well as he knew his own.

The irony that he still seems to know him so well when it feels like he doesn’t know him at all.

But.

He knew he couldn’t be soft; what would happen if he let him go? Who would he kill? Who would he hurt?

This hurt. But the choice was clear in that there was no choice.

Curt fired.

* * *

Curt had spent what felt like an eternity in the last four years trying to get the imagine of Owen lying, broken, on the concrete out of his head. But here they were again.

Red, deep dark red, seeped out of Owen’s head and dripped, dripped, dripped down the steps, coming to pool around Curt’s feet, soaking the soles of his shoes.

Curt felt sick.

Slowly, he knelt down and began rummaging through Owen’s pockets, forcing himself not to close his eyes. His hands were trembling now. Had they been trembling before? He couldn’t recall. Finally, his hands came to rest on a leather-bound book tucked in a secret pocket behind Owen’s right breast; after all this time, it seems that some things never really change, and both Owen’s meticulous journal keeping, and his hiding spots seemed to be among them.

Clasping the small journal tight within his hands like it was the answer to all his prayers, Curt rocked back on his heels before standing up. He knew he ought to hand the journal over, he knew it was evidence; it went against every protocol he’d ever been taught to keep it. But when had Curt ever been good at protocol? And what else of Owen would he ever get to keep?

His communicator beeped.

“Curt? Curt! Are you there? Curt?!”

Barb’s voice startled him, and it took a second to realise he’d just been standing there, staring. Remembering.

“Ah, yes,” he finally replied, desperately ignoring how his voice trembled. “Could you send a… a clean-up crew?”

“For your present location?”

“Yeah.”

Curt barely heard her confirmation over the sudden roaring in his ears. Oh God. Owen. Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe, he had to get out of there, couldn’t keep staring at the body of the man he…

The man he…

Oh God.

* * *

Curt sat slumped on the floor of dingy motel room, back pressed up against the bed. He has long since turned his tracker back off and removed his communicator. He couldn’t deal with them right now; he could barely deal with himself.

The journal lay on the floor a few feet in front of him; he’d been staring at it for the better part of an hour now and hadn’t come any closer to reading it.

Curt sighed. He didn’t know what was going to be in there, or what Owen truly thought of him by the end; but sitting here debating the pros and cons of reading it wasn’t going to change what had already been written.

Steeling himself, Curt reached out and grabbed the journal before he could change his mind, flicking it open to a random page. In the middle of the journal was a loose piece of paper. Curt frowned, pulling it out; Owen had always been careful about keeping his journal neat and tidy. If there was a loose piece of paper, it was there for a reason.

Curt felt nervous, a strange sense of foreboding as he looked at the folded page. His hands trembling almost too much to grasp the paper, he unfolded it and began to read.

* * *

_Curt._

_I hope that I will burn this letter. I hope this is my paranoia and not a truth. But just in case, I need you to understand._

_I don’t hate you. I never could. Yes, I was angry for years, but all of that pales when I see you again. I’m sorry for the lies, for the deceit, for everything I did to you in keeping up this charade. I’m sorry I had to make you believe I hated you._

_Chimera is dangerous, Curt, perhaps even more than I know. They didn’t pull me out of that building to save me, I think we both know that, but I suppose they realised they could use me. I won’t tell me what they did, how they made me do this, but if you want to read my journal you will find the answer there – it is up to you. Just know, whatever you choose to do, I always thought of you in my darkest moments; oftentimes, our secret was the only thing that kept me going._

_I have left all I know about Chimera in a box buried somewhere. I trust you can work out the coordinates – you always knew me so well, after all._

_I am scared of tomorrow, Curt. Tomorrow I will face you and I don’t know what will happen._

_I am praying to a God I don’t believe in that you love me enough to let me live._

_I suppose I’m rambling, aren’t I? So I’ll say this, the words I never had the confidence to share, wholly and truly, when you were in my life: all the bluster in the world cannot hide the fact that I love you Curt Mega._

_In Life and in Death,_  
_Yours forever,_  
_Owen._


End file.
